Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (31 page)

“Promise me that you’ll hear me out,” he murmurs in a rough, unrecognizable voice. The astounded expression on my face momentarily concerns him.

“Perhaps, you should get off the horse. We’ll sit over there,” he says pointing to a cluster of mesquite trees providing shade. There are some scattered red rocks in the vicinity. Unable to form a coherent sentence of any length, I nod. He jumps off his horse with the agility of a predator. When he extends his hands to help me down, I shake my head.

“No!” I say firmly, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “I
’ve got this.” My words sting him, but, he takes a step back and gives me the distance I seek. He stands rigidly; his hands fist into steel hammers, his knuckles turn white. I can feel tension vibrating through him. He is preventing himself from reaching out to me with monumental restraint. His gentlemanly behavior finally wins over and he opens his hand to indicate the shade of the trees as if he’s offering the most comfortable seat at his upscale apartment in Los Angeles.

I take a step towards the trees, stop and look back at him instantly and capture the agony in his expression mixed with determination; his eyes are ablaze. The only noise around is the horses’ trots. Confused, I stumble my way to the trees, and sit on one of the rocks. He comes before me and hunches in front of me.

“You told me that your knowledge of me was a coincidence!”

“No…” he says carefully. “I said ‘did you ever consider the possibility that it’s a coincidence?’”

“That’s too damn cheeky coming from you Alex!”

“What should I have said, angel? You had a hard time accepting what you are, that you’re a Nephilim. How would this go over? And believe it or not, finding you was still a coincidence. The knowledge of you, Elissa Cassandra Duncan,
you
, in your current life is still unknown to me,” he says, and I’m confused. There is too much to comprehend, too much information to digest and too little time to do it. My conscience decides to take the reins and put me on autopilot. Okay… Okay… Perhaps, I should start asking him questions from the beginning. I lift my head up and meet my gaze with his. I only see willing determination and concern in them. Gaining courage from his caring but worried face, I relax a little.

“Who was my father?” I ask in a whisper. “Did he even like Sarah?” Is this my father’s attempt to soothe his guilty conscience by having Alex locate me? But why would Alex need to investigate for him and search me out? Clearly he doesn’t need the money or the job. Are Alex’s investigative services a favor for my father? A payment
for a debt? The thought shatters me inside. Alex sighs, rolling his eyes.

“He had never laid eyes on Sarah…” he starts.

“What?” A sharp question escapes my lips shocked. “How did I come to be if he never laid eyes on Sarah or have sex with her? Or is that not how angels’ children are conceived?” I ask bitterly.

“Your father’s name was Marcus,” he starts. “He was the only one among all the
Watchers
in love with the woman of his choice. You were the child conceived out of pure love between an angel of Eden and a mortal woman. The other Nephilim were conceived in lust alone, and not love. That’s what makes you unique. You were born sinless. That’s also the reason why the other
Fallen
are after you.”

“I’m the daughter of a
Fallen
angel who didn’t have the capability to lust after my mother?” I ask with contempt. Why would that idea sting me? Alex’s responding smile is lascivious.

“I wouldn’t say that. The kind of love they had is always accompanied by lust. But lust alone isn’t accompanied by love.”

“What then? The others are after me because I’m an accident of nature? If what you are saying is true, this…” I say indicating with my hand, “This Marcus fathered me, but never bothered to protect me, left me to the care of others. What difference does it make if he loved my mother or not? I say, not a damn thing!” I can taste the fury in my voice, unable to help myself. The mighty Angel of Eden fathered me, but wouldn’t even protect me, and left me in the claws of Sarah who was ready to hand me over to his enemies and mine. Even though it’s Alex who is getting the brunt of my anger, it is directed towards the father I never knew I had.

“Don’t!” Alex reprimands me sharply as he lifts his index finger up sharply.
His fervor towards my father stops me in my tracks.

“Don’t talk about Marcus like that!” When he opens his mouth again, I know he’s weighing the nuances of every word he’s uttering. “I am trying to make you understand your father against my better judgment!” he says angrily.
“Because I know if I don’t talk about him, you are going to run. And you are most definitely going to fall prey to one of your enemies and they
will
sacrifice you! You said that you want to own your life as much as you can. I will see you through this ordeal, and I’ll gift you the ownership of your life. But as your uncle indelicately told you yesterday, your life does
not
belong to you for the time being; too many
Fallen
,
Darklings
and the minions of Hades are after you! So don’t. Run,” he says pained. Those words stab me and my face reflects the agony he’s experiencing.

“What the hell do you mean that my life doesn’t belong to me? How is it fair that your life belongs to you, but mine doesn’t belong to me?” I shout
trying hard not to cry, sticking an accusatory finger into his face. He shakes his head.

“My life doesn’t belong to me, either,” he says softly.

“Huh?” I respond to his statement, completely taken aback, unable to utter a meaningful word.

“It does not belong to me,” he says enunciating, willing me to understand. “Do you know what a
Rudiarius
is?” I shake my head in response, my eyes wide.

“A
Rudiarius
was a gladiator who had been granted his freedom. He could either obtain it by bravely distinguishing himself in a particular fight or by surviving thirty fights in the arena or five years. The ceremony of granting the wooden
Rudis
,” he says and I look at him blankly. He smiles, “it’s a simple wooden sword,” he explains. “The ceremony was fairly unusual. The Emperor,” he says with a distinct pride, “would go to the center of the arena and give the
Rudis
, the symbol of freedom to the brave, valiant gladiator. That simple gesture signaled that the gladiator was no longer a slave, but a freeman; a
Rudiarius
.”

“What’s that got to do with me? And those gladiators… They lived a couple of thousand years ago. In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t live in a time like that, Alex,” I say fervently
as forcefully wiping my silent tears away with the backs of my hands.

“Don’t we? Everyone is a slave of some sort. They’re not called that of course. Slave to an illness, slave to jobs, slave to debt, mortgage, slave to responsibilities, societal norms, to their bosses, slave to laws that govern them, slave to religions they don’t understand, slave to ignorance, slave to knowledge, slave to love, slave to our thoughts, fears, our own mind... Calling it a different name doesn’t change what it is. At times, we don’t even have a say of what type of slavery we want in our lives and maybe
some other times we may have a say in it. But that doesn’t change the fact that they still govern our lives. You must set the mind free first. When the mind is free, no chain can keep you down. When you submit with your own free will to anything you choose, then it’s the greatest gift.”

“And that’s what I want! I want to choose what governs my life! Not be told that I must obey a destiny written before I was born!”
I have always allowed others to make decisions for me. I want to be able to make my own decisions. Is it too much to ask?

“Hence the reason for my story…” he says softly.
“No one gets to choose the kind of life they are born into. You, Elissa Cassandra Duncan may not have anything to do with the cards you were dealt with, but you must choose the way in which you want to handle it. You must make your effort to earn that
Rudis
. It’s in your hands. I will do everything in my power to grant you that freedom. Everything!” he says, with fierce determination in his turquoise eyes. How could someone pack so much meaning in one simple word?
Everything!
He said. I don’t have the right to take ‘
everything
’ from him. He looks at me as if he knows what I’m thinking. He extends his hand out to me tentatively, close to touch, but seeking permission. I nod. His fingers slowly caress my hands, soothing me immediately.

“There were two famous Roman gladiators; Verus and Priscus who lived during the time of Emperor Titus. Priscus was born a slave from Gaul, and Verus was born free but as fates would have it, he became a slave of his circumstances. They had different starts, but ended up in the same situation at the same place and in the same fight. On that fateful day,” he says his eyes bright as if he is there with those gladiators, “during the inauguration of the Colosseum both gladiators fought valiantly. The contest was long, and the battle was equal on each side
, equal in strength, equal in skill, equal in determination, equal in ardor for the fight. The spectators went wild, loudly petitioning for each man to be released, shouting with their thumbs up, because, both Verus and Priscus managed to conquer the hearts and the minds of the spectators. But of course Caesar followed his own law, and that was to fight without shield until his thumb was raised. Both in the eyes of the emperor and spectators, only the most skillful courage received its prize. How could you make the distinction which gladiator was better when both Verus and Priscus were equals in fight, and equals to yield?

The choice was obvious to the spectators, but it was Caesar who must choose. And in the end, he found the equal division of the required valiant courage, and sent wooden swords and palms to both signaling their freedom. And they both walked through the
Gate of Life
as
Rudiarii
. Romans called this type of fight as
Stantes missi
, a draw with both fighters sent away standing. Both victors. Both living. Both honorable. And both free.
I want that for you
,” he says fervently. “I want you to be sent away standing. So, don’t. Run. Away. Elissa. Please,” he says his eyes wide, and pleading. “If you stay, more than one life will be sent away standing,” he says, and I wonder what other life will be sent away standing. His? I swallow unable to make that decision. He knows it.

“If you do go, everything Marcus did for you will be in vain. He has never been
Fallen
. Love is not a sin of heaven, Elissa. You see, most believe in the inheritance of the original sin, hence the punishment of death. You were devoid of that because of your dual nature and the love in which you were conceived.”

“Do you believe in the original sin?” I ask incredulous. “Do you really think that a baby who never existed before could inherit the sin of two mythical humans?”

He gives me a bitter smile. “What I believe or don’t believe makes little difference. I’ve not written the rules of the universe. I just know how to play it well.”

“Are you saying you’re not a sinner then since you are an immortal?” I ask.

“On the contrary, I’ve committed every single one of the mortal sins. I’ve lusted,” he says grinning unrepentant. “Obviously. I have pride, greed, envy and my wrath is unconquerable. I’ve killed so many minions of Hades, fought countless battles, I’ve forgotten the final number centuries ago. I’m not destined for Elysium, but I can conquer Hell from all of its gates… There are immortal beings that are pure evil. Our immortality does not mean we are sinless. It just means we are not human. Not completely anyway.”

“What?” I ask horrified, shirking from him. Is he deliberately trying to make me hate him?

“I’m telling you what I am, Elissa,” he says through his gritted teeth. “I’ve not repented, because I don’t regret anything I’ve done. I’m unsavable,” he says firmly, his eyes ablaze. Why would he think that about himself? How could such a selfless man be unsavable?

“What are you?”
I murmur.

“A first generation Nephilim, like you,” is his disconnected reply.

“What does that mean?”

“There are different kinds of Nephilim. You and I are the only first generation Nephilim left. One pure,” he says indicating me with a smooth gesture of his long fingers as he offers me a kind smile, “and one who deserves the depths of Hades,” he says with a grim smile. I look at him when he opens his hands up as if to say ‘deal with it’. How could this beautiful man who saved my life last night, put his men’s lives in danger for me
, be deserving of Hades? How could he delicately, tenderly make love to me and be deserving of the inferno? Is he just trying to drive me away? But then he wouldn’t be asking me to stay.

“Our fathers are angels. Mine is
Fallen
, yours is not. Both your parents were in love. My mother was in love, but it was lust for my father. However, all the other existing Nephilim are all sixteenth generation and beyond. Those whom were like us have all been destroyed in the hands of the heaven’s angels, thus in return angering their fathers,” he says as a matter of fact without anger, spitefulness or sadness.